


good enough for delta vega

by sharkplant



Series: hungry work [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Disordered Eating, Jim Has Issues, Quality Banter, damnit jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 10:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18259304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkplant/pseuds/sharkplant
Summary: ‘An apple and some protein nibs do not a breakfast make, Jim.’(or: jim has a weird relationship with food, and he and spock talk about some stuff)





	good enough for delta vega

**Author's Note:**

> any mistakes (spelling or grammar) are embarrassing and all my own. if you spot a glaring one, pls lemme kno
> 
> idk what this is or where it came from. Jimothy has a Issues™️, Spock wants to understand (Jim/Science/Himself), and Bones just wants to read his paperbacks in peace
> 
> Content Warning for disordered eating

Approximately 30 minutes before Alpha shift each cycle, an arrangement of the captain, chief medical officer and himself took breakfast in the mess. It was commonly a quiet affair on the occasions when Jim slept in or was scheduled on gamma, as their captain would either not be present, or tiredly picking through a salad while everyone around him drank coffee. Spock had no great objection to the doctor’s presence, although his manner could be abrasive. Not that it ever had a great effect on Spock’s productivity.

This cycle however had Jim sitting across from him, focused on the report backlog, PADD in one hand, green apple in his other hand, two packets of regulation-issue protein nibs on the table, one opened in a controlled spill across Jim’s side of the table. Doctor McCoy next to Spock was making his way through black coffee, toast topped with butter and a citrus marmalade, as well as a well-worn paperback. Jim had commented on it when Bones sat down.

‘ _To Kill A Mockingbird_ , Bones? When you wake up, do you ask yourself “how much of a stereotype do I want to be today?”’ Spock looked up from his “Vulcan-smoothie bowl” as Jim had called it (‘I have found it to be a more efficient way to consume daily portions of plant matter, Captain.’ ‘How many times? _Jim_.’) and offered Jim silent appreciation for the humour. Spock knew this form of positive reinforcement improved the Captain’s mood 95.3% of the time. ‘How old is copy anyway? Pre-Pointy-Terra contact?’

Spock’s mirth shifted. ‘Perhaps it would do you well to read it, Captain. Xenophobia is precisely its condemnation.’  

‘First of all, Jim. B, Bones was the one who called you Pointy in the first place but still. Sorry. Lastly, you’ve read _To Kill A_?’ Acknowledgments of quote unquote alien difference continued to inspire a negative reaction in him. Spock made note to meditate on that point after Beta shift.

‘It was provided to me, among others, by my mother as an insight into, as you said, pre-contact Terran culture.’ Although his copy had not been physical, rather downloaded to the family’s library through which his progress could be monitored.

‘Record me as I say it because I won’t say it again: Spock has a point,’ Bone remarked, turning a page. ‘Besides, this was one of the few things _she_ didn’t take in the divorce.’ Jim raised his eyebrows at Spock, and returned to his apple and reports: a presumption there that Spock had a similar knowledge of the doctor’s divorce proceedings, which was logically unlikely given the relative ratios of off-shift interpersonal interaction.

The following 8.29 minutes progressed in silence, McCoy putting down his book at the beginning of a new chapter. He picked up what would now be lukewarm coffee. The doctor took a sip and made a face. ‘You good there, Jim?’ 

‘Fine, why?’ Jim had a habit of speaking and chewing.

‘Because you’re taking that apple down to its atoms.’

‘I thought these things were supposed to keep you off my back,’ Jim waggled the minced core between his fingers, dark seeds threatening to come loose, throwing a smile to Spock. He raised an eyebrow in response and Jim smiled a little wider.

McCoy was not convinced. ‘An apple and some protein nibs do not a breakfast make, Jim.’

Jim put down the PADD. ‘Well, if they’re good enough for Delta Vega.’ He winked at Spock. Who felt his face heat minutely, more out of residual guilt than embarrassment for being flirted at? With? As was his Captain’s frequent want to do.

Spock blinked. Despite the fact over one of their chess games they had delved into a deeper conversational vein and Spock had gone quiet and apologised for what transpired around Nero, as Jim had apologised for unkindnesses (‘That’s maybe the most dickish thing I could’ve done. So you really don’t have to apologise for choking me out, I get it.’ ‘I would ask you to consider the apology regardless. I am ashamed of my actions.’ ‘Really. It’s okay. Plus, I kinda liked it.’ ‘ _Captain_?’), Jim frequently mentions his marooning, events which were now some 3.38 years past. While it was jovial in intent, the years and the accepted apology since ought to have smoothed the gap.

‘You getting enough sleep?’

‘I’m fighting fit, Bones.’ Jim had turned back to his PADD, tone clipped. It was with apparently subconscious intent Jim continued nibbling the skin edges of the fruit.

McCoy began packing his tray. ‘Yeah well avoid the seeds, they-‘ 

‘Fuck with your blood and make cyanide, I know Bones. Except I’d need to eat like 200 to actually hurt myself.’

‘I’m going to pretend I’m not concerned you know the exact number, kid. Comm me if anything happens.’

‘Always do, Bones.’

McCoy had not left table. ‘Jim.’

Spock may have predicted the captain to respond more sharply. Instead he lowered the PADD. ‘If I need you, I know where you are.’

McCoy’s mouth flattened into a line. He half nodded and stepped toward a waste disposal.

‘Captai-‘

‘We’re not on the bridge, Spock.’

‘We are required there in 4.7 minutes.’

‘Still 4.7 minutes for you to call me “Jim”.’

Spock was momentarily unsure how to proceed. ‘I am uncertain if it is my place to comment-‘

‘Then don’t.’

Spock blinked again. Jim winced, like he had just heard his own words. He flicked off the PADD. Putting it down caused a singular nib to roll off the table. ‘I’m sorry. I’m being a dick. What were you gonna say?’

‘I wanted to offer myself in a manner similar to Doctor McCoy. If you are in need of company, and I am available, I am amenable.’

‘Amenable,’ Jim repeated quietly. ‘We haven’t played chess in a while.’

‘8 cycles, exclusive.’

‘You free tonight?’ 

‘I have no previously agreed engagements.’

Jim smiled. ‘If I’m not mistaken, it’s your quarters this time?’

‘If you wish, Captain.’

‘Ji- No! Yes! Bridge-time!’ Jim started up and emptied the opened packet into his face before scooping and repeating with the loose nibs from the table. Spock hoped the mess-hall hygiene was up to code. Jim offered the other sachet. ‘For the road?’

‘If you are referring to the 94.2 metre journey to the bridge, I am sure my “smoothie-bowl” will sustain me.

‘Suit yourself.’ Jim stashed them in his front pocket, gathering the PADD, empty nib-packaging and apple core, spinning on his heels, ‘Race you, Commander,’ and half-jogging in the direction of the turbolift. Stopping only to deal with his trash in the appropriate bins.

Spock wiped his hands, tidied his place and stacked his dishes. The captain was waiting by the lift when Spock stepped up.

Jim leaned over. ‘Beat you.’ Spock raised an eyebrow, but didn’t repress the corner of his lip curling.

• • •

248.3 minutes into Alpha shift, the _Enterprise_ entered a low level ion storm. Nothing that would incapacitate the ship itself, however played havoc with several internal systems. It was recommended after an ensign’s replicated meal disintegrated into a non-descript albeit concerning grey substance that transporters, replicators and other related technologies be left alone until further notice.

‘Any sense on the scope of this thing? I’m worried if the crew is going to be able to eat tonight.’ 

‘This storm appears to be a permanent belt through the system, Captain. A common phenomena in binary-star systems. Wit our current path lying at the intersection of their flares, we should pass through the belt by 5.74 minutes past the end of Alpha shift at space-normal speed.’

‘Mr. Sulu, is the storm affecting warp capabilities?’

Sulu checked his sensors. ‘Negative, Captain.’

‘Then let’s warp out.’ 

‘Captain. I would request we continue on course.’

Jim swung the chair around to Spock’s station. ‘Keen to try mush for dinner, Mr. Spock?’

‘Negative, Captain. Judging by the distance of these suns and their respective gravitational pulls, they will collide within the next century. This will intensify the storm belt and I calculate a 75.34% likelihood that to make a repeat journey of the same path would be unsafe. I request the _Enterprise_ keep to its current course and speed to allow for consistent and valid readings to be taken.’

Jim paused in thought. He swiveled The Chair back to the front. ‘Since it poses no threat. Mr. Sulu, maintain speed. Mr. Chekov, maintain course.’

‘Aye, Captain.’

Spock turned back to his console, watching the sensor graph dance.

‘Hey Spock.’ It was a half whisper. He turned only for Jim to toss something at him. By virtue of reflexes, Spock caught the crinkled packet of protein nibs. Jim offered the gesture Spock had come to know as “finger guns”.

Spock took a moment to straighten the edges as quietly as possible, before resting the packet in a divet on his station.

Nyota glanced over, raising an eyebrow. Spock returned the gesture, yet unsure what was being communicated. Nyota half-smiled, shrugged and returned to her work.

• • •

Spock had decided early in this game that while he would not match his opponent’s unpredictability, rather he would endeavour to relax into it than put forward best laid plans to get dashed. It was a testament to their friendship that Spock would consider a course of such action.

Of course Jim’s behaviour had given him much to puzzle over, which part of him did through Beta shift, backing up the data collected in the ion field, and assisting his laboratory technicians through their own research (‘While I do not believe total safety protocols must be followed at this time, Ensign, perhaps gloves may be prudent when interacting with substances of unknown structure. However, your collection of a “mush” sample, as you say, is to be commended.’) Spock had kept the serving of protein nibs at his station. When Ensign Whelan requested the packet for themself, remarking they had been occupied through the Alpha/Beta interim meal break, Spock was momentarily discomforted by the idea of parting with the portion, despite having no interest in consuming the snack himself. He dismissed the notion as illogical and handed over the packet, dismissing Whelan early to seek out a proper meal.

‘Everything okay over there? Spock?’

‘I am focused, Jim.’

‘Well you haven’t made a move in a while and I wasn’t sure if you’d started a mid-game meditation.’

‘To do so would be an insult to your intelligence, as well as a waste of your leisure time.’

Jim chuckled. ‘I appreciate the courtesy. Can’t help but feel there’s still something on your mind.’ Humans, as a largely non-psi species, often found telepathy fascinating. Despite the wider assertion it was not the case, Spock held a quiet view that humans were a highly empathic species. A trait often overlooked by some races in their assessment of them. Jim sat patient.

While he wasn’t at a loss for words, Spock was concerned for how they would be received. _State the facts._ ‘Before Alpha shift you made a pointed reference to Delta Vega.’

Jim ducked his head and rubbed his face. An anxious or embarrassed motion. ‘Sorry. I’ve been a bit of a dick today.’

‘Your capability for self-awareness is often greater than that of your peers, but that is not where my concern lies.’

‘Where do they lie then?’

Spock moved his rook to H3. ‘The events surrounding our encounter with Nero, transpired 3.38 years ago. I have since apologised for my behaviour, an apology which you accepted. My concern then is why,’ Spock felt uncomfortable speaking the words aloud, ‘your time on Delta Vega continues to be commented on.’

Jim blinked, mouth slightly ajar. He swallowed and his brow closed in. ‘It amuses me, I guess?’ He shrugged. ‘I dunno, I’m used to being chucked places when people don’t want me anymore.’

‘You have grown accustomed to abandonment.’ Half question. Half statement.

Jim smiled. It did not reach his eyes. ‘Okie dokie, I’m gonna stop you there.’

‘I apologise, Captain. Jim.’

‘No, I’m sorry. It was a needless thing to bring up. They always make me think of Scotty because he was complaining about rations when I was there. It happened. We learned, we grew. Now you and me don’t hate each other and sometimes play chess.’ Jim moved a Knight, D5.

‘The regard I held for you before our working relationship commenced was never one of hatred. Frustration perhaps. Though from your interactions with both Nyota and Doctor McCoy, I understand this to be a commonly inspired reaction.’ Spock moved his queen-side castle, taking the offending knight.

Kirk brought forward a threatening pawn. ‘I am sorry though Spock. I’m a bit stressed. That’s a reason though, not an excuse.’

‘If you require myself or other senior members of the crew to assist with your responsibilities, you need only ask, Captain. That is our purpose aboard this ship.’ Sometimes Spock considers if Jim forgets he is not required to complete all tasks by himself. He had certainly improved overall from the burnouts and enforced medical leave of their first year, although the behaviour had made a resurrence after Jim’s resurrection. 

‘It’s not ship stuff.’ Jim sighed. ‘I get messages every other cycle from the brass offering to write letters of commendation and support for my application to the admiralty. Recieved one this morning in fact.’

‘Then congratulations are in order. Few captains could garner such support. A fitting next rung for the youngest captain in the Fleet’s history.’

‘I haven’t applied, Spock.’ He raised an eyebrow. Jim continued. ‘They keep assuming. “Not now of course, at the end of the mission”. Except I don’t really want to be the one giving misinformed orders that’ll get ignored.’ Jim was fiddling with a rook, rolling it on angle against the table. 

‘An assumption based on your own relationship with the admiralty.’

‘Because authority figures are usually being dicks.’

’Given your comments regarding your recent behaviour, would this step not be fitting?’

Jim pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth while smiling. ‘Smartass.’ 

‘If the position holds no interest, would it not be logical to inform them?’ 

Jim sniffed. ‘“That’s not a smart career move, Kirk”’ Spock was not sure who precisely Jim was aiming to impersonate. ‘I don’t want to not be out here.’ He looked out the viewport, soft and comfortable. Spock studied the laxness. It suited Jim. ‘I shouldn’t be venting at you like this. I’ll keep my shit in my lane.’ Spock wanted to insist Jim had nothing to apologise for, but Jim continued. ‘I might turn in. Thank you, Commander.’ Despite his 99.28% probability for picking up Spock’s use of titles, Jim’s attitude toward his own usage was in constant flux. Spock was also uncertain for what in spesific he was being thanked for.

‘We are off shift, surely “Spock” is more appropriate.’

‘If you ever get bored doing this,’ Jim flapped a hand at the walls, ‘you should consider becoming the first Vulcan stand-up comic.’

‘Perhaps I will follow that path when you apply for the admiralty.’

Jim chuckled. It was a thin joke by human-standards but if Jim did not mind, then why did it serve Spock to worry. Jim stood.

’Thank you again for the pleasure of your company.

’As I am grateful for the pleasure of yours.’ Jim nodded and made steps for the door. ‘Perhaps you should be aware that I too am...discomforted by the idea of not working on the _Enterprise.’_

Jim stopped. He smiled on one side of his mouth. ‘Glad to know I’m not alone.’ Something stopped Spock making the observation that Jim was rarely without company. ‘Night, Spock.’ His voice was quieter than Spock had heard in some time.

’Goodnight, Jim.’

Jim left through the hallway door. Spock briefly considered the comparitive efficiency to exit through their shared refresher. He decided it must have been a familiarity that their friendship had not earned. He left the pieces in their place if they decided to resume this game, there was much to meditate on.

**Author's Note:**

> seeing a (1) in my inbox waters my crops and feeds the village
> 
> if you want to be my friend and/or have requests, hit up epochalys on the blue hellsite


End file.
